Desert Assassin (18 page)

“This doesn’t look good for whoever is in that house,” said Fowler.

Williams frowned in agreement. “Morgan, why don’t you and Cyclo get the copter and go directly there. Art and I will take my Pathfinder. Keep us posted, especially if the bastard takes off in the car.”

“Will do.”

Morales Two, or whoever it was, made three more trips into the house. Among the items he carried out were a suitcase, three cardboard boxes and what appeared to be a six-pack of beer. He then entered the car.

Morgan and Cyclo sped towards Westerlind’s and the copter, while Williams and Fowler drove toward the house. By the time the copter was airborne, the intruder had pulled away from the house and was driving slowly south on Route 180 toward Gila and Silver City.

Using cell phones, Williams and Morgan kept in constant contact. “Bill, are we going to check the house?”

Williams gave the question some thought before answering. “Odds are the intruder is a Morales. Can you nail the bastard if Art and I go to the house?”

“We’ll get him.”

“Leave no trace. I’ll have the General send two copters with medics and a dozen troops to the house. As soon as you finish off Morales, meet us there.”

“Will do. Also, it might be a good idea to have the FBI step in. I can arrange to have the right agents in charge of the investigations.”

“Do it.”

Once in the helicopter, Morgan and Cyclo rapidly closed in on the slow driving prey. “I’ve got the car in sight. It’s going at twenty-five miles an hour. No run-of-the-mill scumbag would break into a house the way this one did, steal a car and drive this slowly. This has to be another Morales.”

“Check.”

“We’ve lucked out, Bill. He’s turning onto the back road heading west toward Gila.”

“If you can catch him out of sight of any other vehicles, blast him to hell and destroy the car. Leave nothing but scrap.”

“I should of have gone with Morgan,” complained Fowler.

“You sure?” asked Morgan.

“I’m sure. If it isn’t him, we are still eliminating vermin. Save taxpayers some money.”

“Okay.”

With the car in sight and no other traffic visible, Morgan passed no more than ten feet over it, sped by, turned and headed directly at the front of the car.

“Bill, it’s Morales.”

“Take him out.”

Morales swerved to his right to get out of the way of the helicopter. He also hit the accelerator. Moments later, he was stuck in sand.

“Don’t waste any,” said Morgan as Cyclo grabbed a thermite grenade.

“Fifty says it goes off just before hitting the hood.”

“You’re on.”

Seconds later, Williams heard Morgan laugh and say, “Dammit.”

Shortly after the explosion, the car burst into flames. Cyclo then dropped a half dozen fragmentation grenades before Morgan headed to the house, leaving nothing but smoldering rubble behind.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Great work, guys,” replied Williams. “Art and I are outside the house. We’ll wait for you.”

“It will take a couple of hours, but we’ll have FBI covering the house and the remains of the car.”

“Good.”

“Ready?” asked Williams as Morgan and Cyclo stepped out of the helicopter. “I don’t expect to find anyone alive. Just in case, let’s knock on the front door and identify ourselves as police.”

Morgan nodded as he looked at small single-story farmhouse which was badly in need of painting and repair.

“Bill,” said Fowler, “why don’t you let me do the knocking while the three of you guard the back door. Give me a minute, then go in.”

“Do it.”

A minute’s worth of knocking yielded no response.

Weapons drawn, the three stepped into a ransacked kitchen. To the left was a hallway. Two open doors were visible.

“One must be a bedroom,” said Williams as he slowly walked toward the doorways. Looking first through the doorway to his left, he whispered, “Shit.”

A male in his late fifties or early sixties was lying in a pool of blood, the victim of multiple stab wounds to the chest and neck. On a blood-soaked bed was a pajama clad woman in the same age range with a single stab wound to the neck.

Fowler joined them. After all four remained stationary and silent for two or three minutes, Morgan asked, “What now, Bill?”

“Wait until your men and the General’s get here.”

“What are you going to have the General’s troops do?”

Williams paused before answering. “Get the bodies out of here immediately.”

“Then what?”

“Then you are in charge. You get paid more than me.”

“As the General would say, ‘Son-of-a-bitch.’”

Morgan walked back to the helicopter and retrieved his tablet. “Three police vehicles, two fire trucks, couple of ambulances and a bunch of spectators are at what’s left of the car.”

“Let’s have a look,” said Williams.

Morgan handed him the tablet. After a brief look at the feed, Williams said, “I doubt anyone will ever be able to identify the car or whatever may be left of the body. Any trace of the virus should be gone.”

“Good point, Bill. Two teams, two men each, are about fifty minutes away. One will land near the car. If there is nothing left of Morales, they will tell the state police that it’s a state matter and join the second team here. If they spot something, they will take charge.”

Williams, Fowler and Cyclo had long since finished lunch at the motel restaurant when Morgan walked in just after one o’clock.

“How did it go?” asked Williams.

Morgan smiled and said, “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”

“You must be taking lessons from Art.”

Morgan laughed. “The two agents, one a forensic expect, who examined the car are certain that there is nothing left of Morales that can either be identified or pose a threat to anyone. When they left, they told the state and locals they had full jurisdiction.”

“Good. What about the house?”

“The General’s troops arrived and cleared out the bodies and sanitized the house. I dismissed the two agents who inspected the car and then called in the state police.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I, and the two agents who were with me, found two bodies in the house and that the United States government is in possession of them. I also told them that the FBI is in charge of the investigation and that national security is involved.”

“And?”

“One of them protested, so I placed a phone call and put the trooper on the line. The two of them left three minutes later pissed as all hell.”

“Did they ask if there was a connection between the house and the car?”

“They didn’t have a chance to.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m hungry.”

While Morgan was having lunch, Fowler and Cyclo went back to their rooms. Williams stayed.

“What do we do now?” asked Morgan.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Unless there is something unexpected, I suggest we stay out of sight until tonight. If you don’t mind monitoring your feeds, I’ll stay with you. Maybe Art and Cyclo can spend the afternoon hunting in the woods. We can always call them back if we need them.”

“Why don’t we do the same? We can monitor from the woods just as well as from a room.”

“Good enough.”

While Williams and Morgan were meandering through some nearby woods, the General called and said the bodies of two victims of Morales Two had arrived at the complex in Texas. Blood would be tested. If the results proved negative, the bodies would be held for seven days pending notification of any next of kin. He then asked to speak to Morgan.

Morgan found the General to be unusually friendly as they exchanged greetings. “Nothing like a common enemy to bring two old adversaries together,” mused Morgan. He went on to describe how Morales Two was destroyed.

“Great work, Morgan. Why grenades rather than a missile?”

“Two reasons. Using the grenades will probably confuse whoever is investigating more than would using a missile. Also, Cyclo thought it would be more interesting.”

“He’s been hanging around Fowler too much. How many do you figure are left?”

“Cyclo figures zero if Morales Two, the one we just took out, didn’t replicate. If it did, could be one or more. Fowler said it is like playing Whack-a-Mole.”

“Damn, I haven’t thought about that game in twenty or thirty years. That’s a pretty good analogy. What’s Cyclo’s best guess?”

“There are more.”

“I want both of you to hear this.”

The General went on to detail his latest conversation with Stanton in which Stanton had talked about a possible doomsday scenario.

When he finished, Williams said, “This doesn’t surprise me.”

“Let me ask the two of you, can Cyclo and Arthur handle what the four of you are now doing?”

Williams and Morgan looked at each other. Williams pointed to Morgan and then the phone.

“Why, General?” asked Morgan.

“I believe the greater danger, at least for the moment, lies with the Eagle Assassins; I would like to see both of you working on that.”

“I believe they can do it, but they will need a chopper pilot and someone with them who can cover their asses.”

“Any suggestions? Yes, McBride. He can do both, but you should add one of your men.”

“I’ll have someone from HQ there tomorrow. He and Arthur will remember one another. How soon can you get back here?”

“Let us brief Art and Cyclo,” said Williams. “Then we’ll gather our stuff and fly back.”

“Morgan, can you have McBride head directly back as soon as you arrive here? As good as they are, I’m not sure I want to see Arthur and Cyclo on the loose by themselves.”

“With a laugh, Morgan answered, “I can’t see why not, General, but I’ll make sure McBride is ready to fly out as soon as Bill and I arrive.”

“Thank you. One more thing, remind them not to try to capture any of the targets. They are to do nothing but destroy any they find.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE

P
RESENT WERE THE
G
ENERAL
, Williams, Morgan, Rappaport and Mitchell. The General opened the meeting by recounting his previous conversation with Stanton. He added, “As you know, there has been no sighting of the two Eagle Assassins which fled after the attack on Bill and Arthur. Let’s go over every possible scenario. I’ll toss out the first one. If you are a believer in miracles, the two which fled during the attack on Bill were somehow ‘ended.’ What else, gentlemen?”

“They’ve fled the area completely and are replicating at will,” added Rappaport.

Conspicuously silent were Williams and Morgan. This all but forced Mitchell to add to the list. “They are alive, but for whatever reason they haven’t been able to replicate.”

Looking in turn at Williams and Morgan, the General said, “Anyone else?”

Williams and Morgan looked at each other as if to ask, “Do you want to take it?” Finally, Morgan gave an almost imperceptible tilt of the head which told Williams to take the lead.

“On the way here, Morgan did some research on golden eagles. They will cover an area of up to sixty square miles while nesting and living together in a male/female pair. The four which we encountered were replicates. That alone would seem to eliminate the sixty square mile restriction, not to mention their size and speed capability. So, yes, as Jim said, they could be well out of the area. If that’s the case, nothing short of a declaration of national emergency may be needed.”

Williams turned to Morgan, who in turn turned to the General. “General, no one from our end has leaked to the President or any other politician what is going on.”

Both Williams and the General picked up on the significance of the statement. This all but confirmed that Morgan was indeed working for a group which operated outside of Washington.

The General grabbed the back of his neck and began to massage it. He continued doing this for twenty to thirty seconds before speaking. “As you all know, the Secretary has no military experience. I spoke with him two hours ago and gave him some of what we know. These are his exact words, ‘Fix it.’ In other words, he doesn’t want to put it before the President.”

Morgan revealed a barely visible smile. “Anyone care to guess what Fowler would say were he here?”

“We had better not go there,” replied the General as he smiled in return.

“Bill,” said the General, “your best guess.”

“This is as much Morgan’s thinking as it is mine. Because none of our assets have spotted them in the immediate area, it’s logical to assume they have left. However, we are dealing with Eagle Assassins, not eagles. As to why they have not been spotted, these replicates will not be nesting and, therefore, will not be easily visible to satellites, drones and whatever we have that is airborne. We suspect they are under cover and replicating.”

“What type of terrain?” asked the General.

“Hills where there is near unlimited cover rather than mountains.” Williams glanced at Morgan, “Fowler spent days in the hills no more than four hundred to five hundred feet away from Morgan’s two advance copters without being detected.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

Rappaport immediately began to laugh. Having heard the General say son-of-a-bitch thousands of times during the many years they had worked together, he knew Morgan had purposely chosen to mimic the General.

“I’m presuming he had more weaponry with him than a rifle or two,” said Morgan.

“Enough to take out your entire force,” replied Williams. “And, as you know, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do it if the General gave the command.”

The General knew, of course, that it would have taken no more than an attack on Fowler if Morgan’s forces discovered him or if Williams gave him the go ahead.

Williams continued, “These eagles are carrying the original Assassin’s awareness and intelligence. They are all Assassins and, with maturation, both the awareness and intelligence should increase. And who knows what some or all of them may develop into with attacks on other species, including human beings. And then we have the potential of other animals being infected with the Assassin virus and, as a result, developing into Assassins.”

“Our team is running tests to see if this is the case. We should know shortly,” added the General.

“Any chance that the team in the lab can develop something to kill them?” asked Mitchell. “Maybe something that could be sprayed over the area?”

“That’s a good idea, but according to Stanton, not in the immediate future, if ever. If we spray, it will be to wipe out everything living in a designated area. They are working on a number of fronts, all long shots. One is trying to see if they can find something to kill the virus, if it is a virus. Another is to see if there is some way to block the replicating. They are also testing to see if the virus will degenerate over time. All of these, and others, will take time and we don’t have time.”

Once again looking at Morgan, Williams said, “Our best guess is that the Eagle Assassins are staying in small groups, replicating and then continually spreading out. In the process they might be attacking all available animal life. We need to plot a search and destroy area and bring in as many three man groups as possible to go after them. The teams, with whatever vehicles are needed, start on the perimeter and move in. While the teams are going in, the perimeter will have to be guarded by troops and air surveillance. Also, we should have every available copter and drone ready to swoop in for kills. With some luck, we may be able to wipe them out. We can’t afford to spare any other animal life which appears to be infected. If we’ve guessed right we have a chance.”

“Anyone have anything better?” asked the General. After a few seconds of silence, he added, “Let’s get to work.”

Just shy of thirty-eight hours later, everything was in place along a two hundred and twenty mile perimeter surrounding the hills northeast of Reserve and Glenwood. In addition to over six hundred troops divided into squads of three, at the ready were over a hundred attack helicopters. The squads were lined up approximately one mile apart. The helicopters were in place two miles from one another and staggered in between the squads. Lurking in the skies were a half-dozen drones.

Depending on terrain, some of the squads proceeded on foot, while others traveled in armored vehicles. Williams and Morgan, accompanied by SFC Robert Henry, opted to go on foot. Henry was an experienced combat veteran who had served in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

Within an hour of the beginning of the campaign, Williams received a report from the General of a first encounter. One of the squads in an M113A2 flushed out a flock eight Eagle Assassins. They took flight and were gunned down by two of the helicopters.

That was the beginning of the carnage. Over the next seven hours, an estimated total of 123 Eagle Assassins were destroyed, along with a small number of birds and ground animals who were unfortunate collateral damage. All but a handful of the Eagle Assassins were killed in flight by the helicopter crews.

Five hours into the operation, the General requested that Williams and Morgan return to operation headquarters which was located just outside of the eastern edge the attack area.

“Well, gentlemen, how many did you get?” asked the General.

“The same number as you,” replied Williams.

Morgan coughed up a mouthful of bottled water he had been drinking.

“My congratulations. You two couldn’t have been more correct in your analysis and game plan. Now, what’s next?”

Morgan looked at Williams. Implicit in the look was a go ahead signal.

“General, leave about a quarter of the forces in the area until we are absolutely certain it’s clear. Use the rest to fan out another thirty miles or so in all directions.”

“What are you two planning to do?”

“Pay a visit to Morales.”

“Morales? Why?”

“Right now he is the only Assassin we can communicate with conversationally. In addition, he will remember me just as the original Assassin did. Maybe we can ferret out some information which might be of use.”

“How soon do you want to leave?”

“We’ll take the chopper back to my place and spend the night. Arrange to have us out of there by eight tomorrow morning. Oh, one more thing, we’ll add tonight’s steaks at Killer Two’s to your tab.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

Williams piloted, while Morgan used his tablet.

“Anything on the activity in the hills?”

After a brief search, Morgan answered, “Nothing national, just state. Official word out of Washington is ‘field maneuvers.’”

“I suspect whoever you are working for has enough power to control the national media.”

Morgan smiled.

“How about the house and car?”

Morgan spent a few minutes searching before replying. “Articles out of Silver City press along with photos of the car. Hell, we did a good job. Morgan then began to laugh, “Listen to this, ‘One explanation is that the car or truck was hit by a meteor.’ This article goes on to say that authorities are still trying to determine who, if anyone, was in the car.”

Morgan began laughing again. “This is hysterical. The guy who first discovered the car says he saw a flying saucer leaving the area and thinks whoever was in the car might have been taken by aliens before they destroyed it.”

“Are you making this up?”

“No. This couldn’t be more perfect. We might have created a new Roswell.”

“You’re right. This is perfect. How about the house?”

“Nothing that I can find. However, if and when something breaks about it and if no one claims the bodies, I will have the information boys plant the idea that the same aliens who abducted whoever was in the car also abducted the two who lived in the house.”

As they landed behind Williams’ house, the two were greeted by Pezeshki and an armed corporal. The second corporal was manning the van.

“Have you got everything you need, Kevin?” asked Morgan.

Pezeshki hestitated before replying. “Almost, Morg, the Army brings in supplies once a week and we have a jeep to get us to the diner down the road. There is one thing, however.”

“If you are talking about what I think you are, you are on your own.”

Pezeshki laughed as did the corporal. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“Anything new in the last few hours,” asked Williams.

“No, Major, things are pretty quiet right now, but that was one helluva show.”

Williams and Morgan arrived at Killer Two’s just after seven. Before Morgan had a chance to begin examining the interior of the diner, Killer Two raced out of the kitchen. “Bill, where have you been?”

“On assignment, big guy.”

“I think I know where.”

“Classified.”

“I understand. Who’s this?”

“Another army buddy of mine, Morgan.”

Killer two extended his right hand, “Any friend of Bill’s is a friend of mine.”

“Bill has told me all about you, Killer. He says you are one heck of a great guy.”

“Gee, thanks. Coming from Bill, that means a lot.” Looking at Williams, he asked, “Chicken Killer and steaks?”

“What else?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Morgan then proceeded to examine the Kowalski shrine item by item. When next Killer Two came to the counter, Morgan said, “That’s a great picture of you and Kowalski. When was it taken?”

As always, that brought Killer Two to smiles as he filled in the particulars.

After the two had finished their meals and business had just about ended for the night, Killer Two reemerged from the kitchen. “Bill, you should have been here five days ago. This seventy year old guy pulls into the parking lot with a small RV with Massachusetts plates. He walks in, takes long looks at everything, sits at the counter and asks my daughter if he could meet me!”

“Parole officer?”

“Come on, Bill. Anyway, he tells me he’s traveling cross country and made a special trip to come to the diner. He asks me if I ever heard of the Killer’s match against Mr. Moto in Fall River, Massachusetts in the 1950s. I tell him only what I read in the Killer Kowalski article on
Wikipedia.
Then he tells me that he was the one who wrote that part of the article!”

“Wow!”

“I couldn’t believe it. Says he was fourteen at the time and went to the fights with a bunch of his friends. The fights were held on the stage of a movie theater. They got their tickets early and they were ringside up on the stage. Killer’s match was the main event, of course. Haystacks Calhoun was in the match just before Killer’s. Haystacks won by sitting on his opponent. By the way, Killer told me that he was really a good guy.”

“Do you know who Haystacks Calhoun was?” Williams asked Morgan.

“Heard the name, nothing else.”

“Do you want to tell him the mailbag story, Bill?”

“You do it, Killer.”

A few minutes later, Morgan was in hysterics. When he said, “You’ve got to be shitting me,” all three, along with the only other customer in the diner, broke into laughter.

Eventually Killer Two resumed the Mr. Moto story. “He tells me that the crowd was in a bad mood because they had to wait forty-five minutes after Calhoun’s match before Killer and Moto showed up. Next day the local paper said they were late because the car in which they were in broke down on the way to the match.”